


Far Away Lands

by rubygarlands



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, Canon Compliant, Gen, Multi, canon compliant AU, if that makes sense?? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-17 16:43:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5878102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubygarlands/pseuds/rubygarlands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the threat of the Evil Queen's dark curse looming, a heavily pregnant Snow White and her husband, Prince Charming, are presented with a way out for their baby girl, prophesied to be saviour who can break the spell. However, the magical wardrobe used to escape the land can only carry one, and so the couple must make the gut-wrenching choice to separate for the future of all they hold dear. </p><p>A What-if fic, exploring what would have happened if Snow had been able to get through the wardrobe before giving birth to Emma.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Far Away Lands

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone. 
> 
> As you can tell by the description, this fic is an AU of What could have happened had Snow travelled through the wardrobe. Everything up until that point stays the same, and thus won't be a part of the story, just considered part of the canon of the world of this fic. All ships will also stay the same, with tweaking where required, so if you aren't a fan of the ships of the show, this is not the place for you. 
> 
> Certain scenes and plots will also not be addressed, due to having nothing to do with the key theme of the fic, or being unchanged and not being important enough to include. 
> 
> This will get long, so I hope you stick it through with me. It also starts very similar to the show, but the differences start to come to light pretty soon.
> 
> Assumes knowledge of spoilers up until the current point of the story, naturally.

* * *

 

_**Once Upon a Time** _

_**  
** _

**There was an enchanted forest filled with all the classic characters we know.**

**  
**

**_Or think we know._  **

**  
**

**One day they found themselves trapped in a place where all their happy endings were stolen.**

**  
**

_**Our World.** _

_**  
** _

**This is what happened...**

* * *

 

The restaurant was vibrant with the hubbub of conversation, typical for a Saturday night, Emma supposed. Smoothing her dress- a striking red, tight, clinging to her slim build, she scanned the room for any sign of the man she was waiting for. Sure enough, there he was, seated on a table for two, drink in hand. His hair was a little longer than the buzz cut he sported in the photographs, as though he was  growing it out, but it was undoubtedly him. Putting a sheepish, unsure smile on her face, Emma approached. 

Upon spotting her, he stood from his seat, extending his hand to her, a cock-sure smile on his face.   
"Emma." he said, as she took his hand and shook it.   
"Ryan?" she said, by way of affirming his identification of her. Looking into his face, she took in his expression. "You look relieved."  
"Uh, well, it is the internet," he joked, pulling back her chair to aid her. It was almost comical, Emma thought, this show of playing Prince Charming. If only he knew why she was really there. Still, for now she would play along. "Pictures can be-"  
"Fake, outdated, stolen from a Victoria's Secret catalogue," Emma cut him off dismissively. She had heard it all before in her line of work. He took her words as humour, and laughed.   
"Exactly."

This was where it got tricky. Say too much, and she could blow the whole thing. Too little, however, and the opportune moment could pass her by.   
"So..." Emma said, a well-practised feign of the awkwardness of a first date.   
"So... um, tell me something about yourself, Emma?" he asked. How original. Racking her brains, Emma eventually settled on the truth.   
"Oh! Um, well... today is my birthday," she said, with a hint of a smile. He seemed taken aback.   
"And you're spending it with me? What about your friends?"  
"Kind of a loner," she responded, shrugging off the question.   
"And... you don't like your family?" Ryan persisted. Emma pursed her lips slightly.   
"There isn't much of a family to like. It's just me and my mom, but she didn't exactly raise me, I was in the foster care system growing up, so I'm kind of an orphan. I've got a brother, but he's been travelling for years now. I haven't even spoken to him lately." She explained. She had no idea why she was telling him details of her personal life, but she supposed it didn't really matter. "Ready to run yet?"  
"Oh, not a chance," Ryan smirked. "You, Emma, are by far the sexiest friendless orphan that I have ever met." 

Emma smiled. This seemed the perfect time to go for the jugular. "Okay! Your turn! No, wait, let me guess," she waved her hands, making a show of her excitement, although truth be told, the adrenaline that came from her job was already pumping, eager to catch this guy out. "You are handsome, charming..." she began, and he gave her a look that demonstrated that she was successfully stroking his ego.   
"Go on," he urged her.   
"The kind of guy who, and now stop me if I get this wrong," she paused for a second, just to be dramatic more than anything, "embezzled from your employer, got arrested, and skipped town before they were able to throw your ass in jail." Her words hung in the air for a second, and the suspicion crept into Ryan's expression. Still, he gave her a smile, one that was a little too wide.  
"What?"  
"And the worst part of all of this," Emma pressed on as though he had said nothing "is your wife. Your wife loves you so much she bailed you out, and how do you repay that loyalty? You're on a date." she said, her blatant judgement now obvious.

All pretenses had been dropped now, and he looked at her with nothing short of hostility.  
"Who are you?" He asked.  
"The chick who put up the rest of the money," Emma retorted coolly.  
"You're a bail bondsman," he said, with an air of realisation.  
"Bail bondsperson," she corrected him. She could see the cogs ticking in his head, and was prepared to leap to her feet  when he turned over the table. It didn't stop the red wine darkening her expensive dress, however. Exasperated, Emma sighed. "Really?" she grumbled to herself, turning to follow him from the restaurant. She didn't bother running- after all, he couldn't get far. 

She followed Ryan across the street. His sprint had sent cars veering across the road, but she kept her composure. Sure enough, when she had arrived at the car he was trying to make a quick getaway in, he was swearing, coming to the realisation she had clamped it. He turned to her, tactics changing, his eyes wide and pleading as she stood over him.   
"Look, you don't have to do this, okay? I can pay you, I've got money." He said, beseechingly.  
"No you don't," Emma said, without missing a beat. "And if you did, you should give it to your wife to take care of your family." His expression turned nasty then.   
"What the hell do you know about family, huh?" he spat at her, and Emma saw red. Before she could think, her hands had shot forward, and Ryan's head had made contact with the steering wheel, knocking him clean out.   
"Nothing," she said, eyebrows furrowed, although nobody could hear her. 

* * *

 "Mary Margaret?" Emma called a few hours later, letting herself into her apartment. Her mother had not always lived with her. The mental health issues of Mary Margaret Blanchard meant that Emma and her brother had been taken from her on the day she was born, 28 years ago. Although she had had contact, it was rare, sporadic throughout Emma's life. They didn't even share the same name- although Emma was the name her mother had picked from her, her last name, Swan, came from her first long-term foster family. When she was eighteen, she had moved in with her mother for a time, but it hadn't lasted, as by that point, Emma was used to a level of independence. Contact had been limited from that point on, restricted to a phone call every month or so. However, a few weeks prior, her mother had shown up on her door, claiming she had nowhere else to go, and, unwilling to send her out on to the streets, Emma had allowed the woman to stay. 

"Emma?" Came Mary Margaret's reply. Her voice sounded... odd. Strained, in a way.  "Could you come in here for a moment?" Emma furrowed her eyebrows, kicking off her high heeled shoes with a slight wince.   
"I was about to," she responded, padding down the hallway in her bare feet to the sitting area where Mary Margaret's voice had come from. When she was young, Emma remembered her mother had been very beautiful, with long, flowing black hair and ivory skin, and it was not hard to see where the "Snow White" delusions came from. Now, as an older woman in her mid-fifties, the hair had been cut short, and was more silver than black, but she still carried herself elegantly, still retained a sweet, innocent beauty from somewhere in her gentle soul.   
"What's up-" Emma trailed off when she noticed the young boy sitting besides Mary Margaret.   
"This is Henry," Mary Margaret said in that same, tense voice.   
"I'm your son," the boy piped up, cheerfully. 

Emma froze, her eyebrows knotting together. "I don't have a son," she declared, staring at the boy. He couldn't be. He just couldn't be. "Where are your parents?" The boy seemed unperturbed, and merely took a sip of the cocoa that was in front of him, clearly supplied by Mary Margaret. The older woman was looking at the boy, her expression stunned and concerned in equal measures.   
"Ten years ago, did you give up a baby for adoption?" he asked, matter-of-factly. Emma didn't respond, eyes darting between her mother and the child sitting opposite her. "That was me," he confirmed, and Emma felt like she was going to faint.   
"I need to sit down..." she said, more to herself than anything, before collapsing into the couch. She felt as though she had run a mile- her heart was pounding, and she was beginning to sweat. This was never supposed to happen. She had specified when the baby had been born that she wanted no contact. Everything was to be sealed. How had he found out? How was the son she had given birth to when she was in the darkest place of her life found his way to her?   
  
If the boy- Henry- was concerned about Emma's less than enthusiastic reaction to their meeting, it did nothing to dampen his spirits. The kid was positively chipper.   
"We should really get going," he said, jumping to his feet. Emma gave him a sideways look. It was strange- a part of her wanted to drink in his features, the features she had often wondered about, but the other, more rational part knew that that was a dangerous road to go down.   
"Going where?" she said.  
"I want you to come home with me," Henry replied, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.   
"Okay kid, I'm calling the cops," Emma stood. She was not going to bite. She could not be a part of this child's world, and didn't want to see any of it.  
"I'll tell them you kidnapped me," Henry said, smartly.   
"They'll believe him, you are his birth mother, after all," Mary Margaret pointed out. Emma shot her mother an accusatory glance.   
"Why would I kidnap him and then call the cops on myself? Besides, I have a whole restaurant who can verify where I was tonight. There's no way that story will wash." Emma pointed out. However smart this kid thought he was, she was a million times smarter. "Besides, he wouldn't do that anyway. Here's the thing," she said, turning back to Henry. "There's not a lot I'm great at in life, but I have one skill. Let's call it a super power. I can tell when anyone is lying and you, kid... are." she said, with an air of finality, scooping up the phone to call the police and get the boy out of her life for good. 

"Wait," Henry said, his whole demeanour changing. "Please don't call the cops, please? Come home with me." There was a desperation in his voice that gave Emma pause.   
"Where's home?" She asked, albeit reluctantly.   
"Storybrooke, Maine," he responded. At this, Mary Margaret cleared her throat.  
"Emma, you should take him." She said. Emma nodded her head, but didn't meet her mother's eyes. How could she explain why she had never told her mother about the son she had given birth to all those years ago? But there was something else- an air of urgency in Mary Margaret's tone that had the wheels in Emma's head turning, although she wasn't sure why.  
"All righty," she said, defeated. "Let's get you home to Storybrooke."

* * *

 Hours later, Emma found herself slamming the brakes on in the middle of the street, and exiting the car in anger. Henry was playing games with her, refusing to divulge his address, and it was frustrating her to no end. Right now, all Emma wanted was to get the kid home and out of her life.   
"Look, it's been a long night, and it's almost... 8:15?" she questioned, after glancing at the clock that loomed in the center of the square.  
"That clock hasn't moved my whole life," he explained, after clambering from the car himself. "Time's frozen here."   
"Excuse me?" Emma asked, dumbfounded.   
"The evil queen did it with her curse. She sent everyone from The Enchanted Forest here," Henry said. Emma didn't take her eyes from him, but was sure her shock was plain for him to see. This all sounded a little too familiar.   
"What did Mary Margaret say to you?" She asked in a low tone. She had thought her mother was over her delusions, but to see Henry parrot them was proof that another episode was in the pipeline.   
"You mean Snow White?" Now it was Henry's turn to look confused. "Nothing."   
"Henry, listen," Emma folded her arms across her chest, closing herself off, but made her voice as gentle as she could get it. "Mary Margaret... my mother, she's been sick a long time. Whatever she said to you-"  
"It's true!" Henry insisted. He seemed to be growing more agitated by the second. "Everyone here is a fairytale character. They're trapped here and they can't leave. If they try, bad things happen."

Emma struggled to think of a reply. Henry had clearly took her mother's words and ran with them. She was saved the trouble of figuring out what to say by interruption from a man coming down the street. His hair was tufty, a rusty colour, and he wore thick glasses and a scarf over a suit. On a leash was a dalmatian dog that he was clearly walking.   
"Henry!" The man called, rushing over to them. "What are you doing here? Is everything all right?"   
"I'm fine, Archie," Henry said, although he was starting to look guilty, and quickly bent to pet the dog.   
"Who's this?" Archie asked, turning his gaze to Emma. His eyes were kind, which was something. He looked as though he could be convinced not to call the cops on her for kidnap, at the least.   
"Just someone trying to give him a ride home," she stepped in. Her plan to get in and out was not going well.   
"She's my mom, Archie," Henry chirped up. Fantastic. This was exactly what she didn't want. Although Archie looked surprised at the revelation, his words did not question him, so Emma had to assume Henry's adopted status was common knowledge.   
"Oh, I see," he said.  
"Do you know where he lives," Emma asked, quickly, not wanting to stick around for things to get awkward.   
"Sure," Archie said, helpfully. "Right up on Miflin Street, the mayor's house is the biggest one on the block."   
"You're the mayor's kid?" Emma rounded on Henry, who looked thoroughly embarrassed at being caught out.   
"Maybe," he said, staring at his shoes.   
"Hey, where were you today, Henry, because you missed our session?" Archie asked, a swift change of subject.   
"I forgot to tell you, I went on a field trip," Henry said, smoothly. Archie looked from Emma to Henry knowingly.   
"Henry, what did I tell you about lying?" he crouched to the young boy's level. "Giving in to one's dark side never accomplished anything." That was something Emma had learned the hard way, and had in fact resulted in Henry's birth. The irony was not lost on her.   
"Okay, well I really should be getting him home," she cut across the man.   
"Sure, listen, well have a good night, and you be good, Henry," Archie said cheerfully, rising to a stand and reaffirming his clutch on the dog's leash to continue on their way.   
  
"So that's your shrink?" Emma asked Henry, as Archie's whistles faded away. Perhaps he suffered from the same disorder that had plagued Mary Margaret. It explained the obsession they shared with Snow White and Evil Queens and curses, although how they both had the same delusions was lost on Emma. She was by no means a professional, but hey, genetics could do some weird stuff.   
"I'm not crazy," he said, firmly, with his jaw clench. It was a gesture that was so endearingly Emma that she was surprised to see the resemblance to herself in the boy, and feel the surge of affection it produced.   
"Didn't say that." she said, carefully. It was never wise, nor kind, to call someone crazy, something she had learned growing up with her mother. "Just... he doesn't seem cursed to me. Maybe he's just trying to help you."  
"He's the one that needs help. Because he doesn't know. None of them do, because they don't remember who they are," Henry spoke to her as though he were pointing out the obvious to someone particularly clueless.   
"Convenient. All right, I'll play," Emma turned to climb back into the yellow bug, while Henry did the same with the passenger side. "Who is he supposed to be?"  
"Jiminy Cricket."

* * *

"Henry!" The brunette opened the door and rushed out, over to her son, before enveloping the kid in a hug. Emma straightened. She hated herself for it, but she couldn't help feeling slightly disappointed. He had just been telling her that he only had a mother who didn't truly seem to love him, and that was something Emma herself could relate to. The realisation that didn't really have that in common was much harder than she anticipated. Three people ran out of the house after the dark haired woman- two men, one with light hair, the other slightly darker, with stubble to match and clad in a police uniform, and a thin, blonde woman with a pinched looking face.   
"Are you okay?" Henry's mother asked, pulling away to look at the boy she had raised in the face. "Where have you been?" She looked up at Emma, as though noticing her for the first time. "What happened?"  
"I found my real mom," Henry said, hurling the words at the brunette like knives, before turning and running into the house. All four of the adults turned to look at Emma.   
  
The awkwardness hung heavily in the air, the silence prolonging the tension.   
"Y-You're Henry's birth mother?" asked the brunette, the first to recover. Emma smiled, sheepishly.   
"Hi," she said, simply. The police officer shuffled in the background.   
"I'll go and check the lad. Make sure he's all right," he said, quickly dismissing himself from the situation. The other two seemed to slink back into the house, too, leaving the two women to stare each other out, before the brunette offered Emma a half-smile.   
"How would you like a glass of the best apple cider you've ever tasted?" she said, to Emma's surprise.   
"Got anything stronger?" Emma asked. It had been a long night.   
  
The mother, who introduced herself as Regina, was just as clueless as to how Henry had found Emma as Emma herself was. She didn't know anything about her, having adopted Henry as a baby with sealed records. She was also, it transpired, unaware of the fairytale fantasy Henry harboured- all the proof Emma needed that it was Mary Margaret who had planted the seed in the boy's head to use the book he carried with him as gospel. After one drink, and polite civilities, Emma excused herself. The sooner she could return to her life, the happier they all would be.   
  
She was walking down the driveway when the man, the lighter haired one, who had come rushing from the house to greet Henry, caught up with her.   
"Hey!" He called, and Emma turned to look at him properly for the first time. As she did so, she felt a fuzzy sense of recognition. The man was vaguely familiar to her, although, for the life of her, she couldn't figure out why.   
"Yeah?" She asked, raising an eyebrow questioningly.  
"I just wanted to say thank you, for bringing Henry back," he said with a warm smile.   
"Oh. Well, you're welcome."

* * *

This was not how Emma wanted to start her day, she thought, having woke on the cot in a cell, accused of drink driving. Now here she was, hacking into Henry's computer, after Regina stormed into the sheriff's office with the news he had disappeared again.    
"I'm a bit more old-fashioned in my techniques," the sheriff from last night, whose name, it turned out, was Graham, said. "Pounding the pavement, knocking on doors, that sort of thing."  
"You're on salary. I get paid for delivery, pounding the pavement is not a luxury I get," Emma responded, waiting for the computer to do its thing. "There's a receipt for a website. whosyourmomma.org. It's expensive, he has a credit card?"  
"He's ten," Regina shot back, as though Emma were stupid.   
"Well he used one," Emma informed her. "Let's pull up a transaction record." A few clicks revealed the name of the card holder. "David Nolan. Who's David Nolan?"  
"Henry's godfather." she replied, frowning. "He was here last night."   
  
After a phone call to Katherine, Regina's best friend, who also happened to be David's wife, they were away, and after a short car ride, they found themselves at the animal shelter where David worked.   
"Have you seen Henry?" Regina asked, eyes blazing, when a bemused David cleared an early break with his boss to talk to them.   
"Henry? What? No? Is he not at school? Is he missing again? David asked, and his concern for the kid was obvious.   
"Do you think I'd be here if he was?" Regina snapped. "Did you give him your credit card so he could find her?" She jerked her head towards Emma, hovering in the background.   
"Of course not!" David said, his own temper clearly flaring.   
"Well he used it!" Regina's voice was firm, and even Emma had to admit, intimidating. David reached into his jacket pocket, and pulled out a wallet, checking it himself before showing it to Regina.   
"He must have taken it when Katherine and I came for dinner the other night," he sighed. "I should never have given him that book."   
"What in the hell is this book I keep hearing about?" Regina demanded to know. Emma could almost see the smoke coming out of her nose.   
"I gave him a fairytale book of old stories I found," David explained. "The kid was having a hard time and he doesn't really have any friends, I thought it would help."  
  
Regina shot David a withering look before turning on her heels and leaving the room.  
"Have a nice trip back to Boston," she snarled at Emma on the way out, leaving the blonde alone with David, who sighed and ran a hand through his short hair.   
"She'll never forgive me for this," he said, although he did not seem particularly cut up about it.   
"How is a book supposed to help?" Emma asked, raising an eyebrow at the man, who still seemed so familiar.   
"I remember loving story books as a kid, and Henry has always been so smart and creative. I thought it would help him deal with the world. Henry hasn't had the easiest life. He's had a hard time with being adopted. I wanted to give him hope."  
"You know where he is, don't you?" Emma cut him short. There was no point beating around the bush. David grinned. 

* * *

"I can't believe this is it," Snow said tearfully, pressing her palm to Charming's cheek. Tears were in his own eyes, and the curse, not to mention the Queen's men, were coming.

"You have to hurry," he said, his voice little more than a whisper as he pressed a kiss to Snow's forehead, his hand resting on her stomach. Their child kicked. It would be their last interaction for 28 years. The thought was more than he could bear.   
"I love you. I love you so much." Snow said. unable to prevent her sobs. Charming wrapped his arms around the princess tightly, kissing her.   
"28 years will pass before you know it. Everything will be okay. You'll see. But you have to go." Detaching herself from the kiss, and his arms, Snow took one last look at her husband, before stepping into the wardrobe, and the world faded to black. 

She came through by a tree, and she sat on the rain-soaked ground, allowing huge, heartbroken cries to fall from, her lips. She had not wept like this since her father died, and she only lifted her head from her hands when she felt someone else's- someone small's- touch on her shoulder. Looking up, her mouth fell open in shock. "Pinocchio?"  
"Please don't be mad at papa," the little boy said. "There was magic for two, but he didn't want me to turn back into wood." The dull ache hit her like a blow to the chest at the realisation that she could have had Charming, that they all could have been together. Then the anger welled up in her. But it was not this little boy's fault. After all, Gepetto was only doing what she herself was- trying to save his child, and she could not begrudge him that. Besides, she had bigger concerns right now.   
  
It felt like the baby was coming. 

* * *

"I know why you gave me away. It was to give me my best chance." Henry said, and his words were so true that Emma almost wanted to cry. she had found him, in a wooden castle in a playground, and returned the book that he had left in her car.   
"How do you know that?" She said, shortly, after a pause.   
"The same reason Snow White came here. To give you your best chance."  
"Listen to me, kid," Emma said. She could not let this persist. "I am not in any book. My mother, no matter what she might say, is not Snow White. I'm a real person, and I'm no saviour. You were right about one thing though. I wanted you to have your best chance. But it's not with me." Her heart was breaking, and so, she could tell by the look on his face, was Henry's. She hated this, hated performing the necessary evil, but it had to be done, for both of their sakes. Standing, she started to walk back to her car.   
"C'mon. Let's go."  
"Please don't make me go back there, just stay with me one week. That's all I ask, one week and you'll see I'm not crazy!" Henry begged, running after her.   
"I have to get you back to your mom," Emma insisted.   
"You don't know what it's like with her, my life sucks," Henry pleased, his anguish clear. Emma snapped.   
"You want to know what sucking is? My father left my mother to deal with two kids when she couldn't even take care of herself. They took me from her when she kept... insisting that she was a Disney Princess. Then she insisted on being in my life, she ruined my chances of finding a real family. I ended up in the foster system. I had a family until I was three but then when they wanted to adopt me, she blocked the process from going through." Emma was surprised to find tears running down her cheeks. Wiping them with the back of her hand, she crouched down to Henry's level. "Look. Your mom is trying her best. I know it's hard and I know sometimes you think she doesn't love you, but at least she wants you. I won't get in the way of that.   
"Your dad didn't leave you by choice. He was cursed, the wardrobe could only take one. He was trying to save you and Snow White," Henry began. Emma let out a small chuckle.   
"Sure he was. C'mon, Henry."  

* * *

"Where are you taking her?" Snow White screamed. Everything was different in this land, sterile and unfamiliar, and, somehow, she had flagged a car down on the side of the road she had found, although she had no idea what it was, which had transported herself and Pinocchio to what they called a hospital.   
"Ma'am, you appear to be suffering from prepartum psychosis. Until we determine who you are and how to treat the problem, we're going to have to take your children to a safe place." The doctor tried to explain, as the nurse removed little Emma, born only minutes prior before being taken from Snow's arms, from the room.   
"What are you talking about? I know who I am, I'm Snow White," she said, trying to stand, only for the doctor to hold her back. All she could do was watch while her daughter was taken from her. Regina had won after all.

* * *

Emma didn't think she'd find herself checking into a hotel. After returning Henry home, and receiving not so much of a thank you as a torrent of verbal abuse, topped off with a threat to leave town. What harm could it do, she asked herself. After all, Henry had only asked for a week. 

 

 

 


End file.
